A Father's Day remembrance of soil, memory, and the inheritance of care.
“What are we planting here, Dad?” I asked, tiny fingers curled around his calloused hand as we walked the fields one morning.
I already knew about crop rotation—the old-school method of nurturing soil through seasonal rest and variety. Today, they'd call it regenerative. Back then, it was just how my great-grandfather, grandfather, and dad farmed—with reverence.
The plot we stood before buzzed with bees and butterflies.
“Diverted acres,” he said. “We’re letting the soil rest.”
I remember that moment vividly. A rest. Like the earth itself taking a breath. That concept stayed with me. Land, like people, needs time to renew.
Join me on a new journey
If this glimpse speaks to you, I share the full story on Substack—where I explore beauty, memory, and the unseen threads that hold us.
Stories of land, love, and eco-fashion—rooted in memory, made with care.
Subscribe to receive new writings as they unfold.